


Midnight at the Oasis

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M, just barely post-canon, necessary cross-dressing, too many flashbacks for PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: After wandering the desert for forty days and forty nights, Lenny finds water and Laverne.  And Laverne forgets all about missing Carmine.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski
Comments: 93
Kudos: 4





	1. Heaven's Holding a Half-Moon

It was hard to say who was more surprised, Lenny to find Laverne in a shower cap and her red-and-white-striped long nightshirt, flailing in a jungle-animal-themed kiddie pool, or Laverne to see Lenny looking like a young Gabby Hayes, standing in her Burbank bedroom doorway.

His "Whatcha doin', Laverne?" clashed with her "Where the hell have you been?"

"The desert," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's what Squiggy said, but he got back over a month ago."

"I know, he ditched me."

"Oh, Len!"

"Well, he did leave me the canteen. But after the first few weeks...."

"Geez, Len, you must be thirsty!"

"Yeah," he said, eying her bedwater.

"No, Len, I'll get you some tap water from the bathroom. This has my sleep-drool in it."

"I don't mind."

She didn't know if that had more to do with his long-standing crush on her or his loose definition of hygiene, but she said, "Just help me up and I'll get you real drinking water."

"Can I ask why you went swimmin' in the middle of the night?"

"Homemade waterbed."

He nodded as if that made perfect sense. That was one of the nice things about Lenny. He very seldom thought anything she did was crazy.

She expected him to help her untangle the blanket that tied itself around her when she fell off the inflatable raft and into the pool. Instead he reached down and scooped her, blanket and all, into his arms. It almost felt romantic, except....

"Phew, when did you last take a bath?"

"What month is it?"

"Lenny, I know you were lost in the desert, but you're home now and you really need to clean yourself."

"Well, that's why I came over."

"I am not letting you bathe in my bed."

"No, see, I wanna take a shower but I lost my keys in the shifting sands and Squiggy ain't home."

"Oh, right, he's probably spending the weekend with Leonetta."

"Who?"

"His new girlfriend. They met working on Pop's campaign."

"Campaign?"

"Look, we've got a lot to catch up on, but I think you should put me down and then you can use my shower."

"OK." He set her on her feet surprisingly gently and then helped her untangle the blanket. But then he bit his hand.

This was not exactly her sexiest sleepwear, and if she'd known she was going to have company, she probably would've skipped the shower cap. She looked down at herself and realized that her nightshirt was so soaked that it was clingy and a bit transparent. Also her nipples were standing out, but that was probably from the unexpected plunge.

She looked at his face again, the admiring blue eyes and the slightly wolfish teeth still biting his palm. She lightly shoved his other shoulder and said, "Go take a cold shower, Len."

He lowered his hand, nodded, and headed into her bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

She shook her head and then wondered what he could change into. The two of them, despite a six-inch height difference, had the uncanny ability to wear each other's clothes. (That Squiggy and Shirley could dress in each other's drag was less impressive.). While it would be amusing to put Lenny in a miniskirt, she figured he was going to be sleeping on her couch that night, so she got out her spare robe and pajamas.

Then it occurred to her that she had no place to sleep. Well, maybe Rhonda was home and would let Laverne sleep on her couch.

But first Laverne had to get out fresh sleepwear for herself. She decided on her Dodgers jersey, a robe, and knee-high sweat socks. Panties but no bra because she didn't like sleeping in a bra. She wouldn't lend Lenny underwear, although she once gave him a bra for keeps, after he did her a favor and dressed as "Lenore," supposed former member of the Angora Debs.

"Gee, you mean it, Laverne?" he'd asked, holding it like it was fragile.

"Yeah, it's my oldest bra."

"This was your training brasserie?" Now he looked at it like it was what he'd call "a precocious artefaction."

"No, you big dope, I wasn't this stacked in junior high."

"I remember," he murmured.

She blushed but briskly said, "It's the oldest one I currently use. I don't want it back now that it's been on your greasy body."

He frowned and quietly said, "I showered before putting on your clothes."

They'd both witnessed Shirley carefully inventorying every article of clothing that Squiggy brought back the day after Drag Night, and Laverne knew Shirley would run the clothes through several turns in the laundry room. Laverne had wanted to spare Lenny the humiliation, so she whispered that he could bring her stuff back later, meaning when Shirley and Squiggy weren't around. (Dressing in drag didn't embarrass the boys, especially in a good cause.)

And she had just been teasing the day they discussed her bra. If she'd really been bothered by the thought of her clothes touching her skin after his skin, she would've offered him the whole outfit. "Keep it anyway. Just don't tell me what you do with it. Or tell anyone you have it."

He'd nodded, stuffed the bra into the left pocket of his Lone Wolf jacket, and dashed upstairs.

She now remembered that the last time she saw him, almost six weeks ago, he and Squiggy were in Biblical robes and headdresses. The long hair, mustache, and beard he'd grown in his absence would've suited that outfit as much as they suited his young-but-grizzled-prospector look.

She shook her head and tried not to think so much about what Lenny put on his tall, skinny body. She needed to change out of her damp nightshirt. And her panties were drenched, not in a good way.

She hesitated and then decided to take the spare towel off the rack. She'd noticed Lenny hadn't closed the bathroom door all the way. She'd slip in and grab the towel real quick, even if he yelled at her for spying on him.

She had no intention of looking, although it would serve him right, after about fifteen years of him trying to peep at her, like at sleepovers with Shirley and Anne Marie. Not that he did it as often these days, but he had ogled her in her bedroom just a few minutes ago. For that matter, why had he come upstairs at midnight, opened her closed bedroom door, and come in without asking? OK, yes, he was locked out of the boys' apartment, but he could've slept on her couch and waited until the morning to ask to borrow her shower. If he got mad about her invading his privacy, she'd point that out.

Still, she opened the bathroom door quietly, hoping he'd have his back turned. She stepped over the heap of cowboy duds, reached for the closest towel, and snatched it quickly.

Then she risked looking over at the shower stall. The sliding door was fogging up and she had the feeling that her advice to make the shower a cold one was being ignored. She didn't intend to ogle but she had to see if he saw her, right?

He was facing the the spray, so it was a side view. Her eyes went to his tushie first, drawn by the paleness that shone, especially in contrast to his desert-tanned arms. It was a dancing moon, the one visible tight little bun moving rhythmically.

She yanked her gaze a couple feet higher and saw that his sunburned face looked even redder than when he blushed in her bedroom. His eyes were shut and he was biting his lower lip.

Since he was clearly unaware of her presence, her eyes wandered down again, this time along the front. One of Lenny's big hands was full of Polish sausage. She licked her lips as she watched his frantic strokes along the shaft, the purple head playing peek-a-boo.

She shook herself and crept out, closing the door almost all the way. She grabbed her stack of clothes off the top of her dresser, leaving the other stack for Lenny. She'd change in the living room.


	2. Traces of Romance in Our Heads

Lenny tugged off his black boots, then quickly stripped off his tan hat, brown vest, light tan shirt, brown belt, blue jeans, and lucky horseshoe boxer shorts, in that order. He felt a little guilty about the dust he'd leave on her bathroom floor, but Laverne was pretty forgiving. And he planned to clean up after himself if he got any splooge on her walls. The walls of her shower stall, not the soft walls he couldn't stop thinking about.

When he wandered the desert for a lot fewer than forty days, with Squiggy, Carmine, and Mr. DeFazio, he had a vision of Rhonda as a harem girl, tantalizing him with a glass of water. But the Laverne mirages of the past month were a lot more vivid, and let's just say that she offered him more than milk and Pepsi.

And now here she was in the flesh, flesh that the wet, clingy nightshirt accentuated. He would be far too distracted if he slept on her couch, as he hoped he could, while she slept upstairs in the kiddie pool. (He didn't know why she wanted to sleep in a kiddie pool, but he'd figured it wasn't the time to ask.)

He was doing them both a favor by playing with himself. He could think about her doing the dance of the seven veils (each with an L in cursive) and touch himself, then calmly play catch-up about whatever he'd missed in the last six weeks. Like Squiggy having a new girlfriend.

He bore his best friend no ill will over running out on him in the desert, even though Lenny had abandonment issues. Oh, sure, he was mad, and scared, at first, but he got over it. Besides, he didn't want to think about it just then, not while he was imagining Laverne getting nakeder and nakeder.

And she was kissing him, one of those luscious Laverne smooches he got once in a blue moon, like when he helped her understand her mixed feelings about her mom or sang a duet with her that everybody liked. Only this was more than one kiss.

Obviously, he wanted to do more than kiss her, but he was trying to make this quick. He still had to wash up, and he didn't want the hot water to run out. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate better, and he bit his lip to keep from getting noisy.

He gasped when he was done. He really felt dehydrated now, even though he was in the middle of water. But at least the fluid he just lost ran harmlessly down his leg and to the drain, so he probably wouldn't have to scrub the tiles.

He washed his leg and the rest of him. Then he turned off the water and pushed back the sliding door. He reached for the towels and was surprised to find only one. He could've sworn there were two when he came in, and he'd planned to wear both, since obviously he couldn't put his cowboy clothes on again until he washed them. And who knew when Squiggy would get back from his girlfriend's.

Well, Lenny could probably bug Carmine in the morning. The Big Ragoo became building manager after Sonny left, and he would have a spare key. But meanwhile, Lenny would have to get by with just the one towel, unless Laverne loaned him some of her clothes, which he wouldn't necessarily mind.

He dried off and then wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Then he poured water into the rinse cup Laverne used for brushing her teeth. He tried not to think about how she wouldn't let him bathe in her saliva.

He drank slowly and then had another cupful. He sighed and prepared to face Laverne. Hopefully, she wouldn't ask what took him so long.

She wasn't in her bedroom but he saw she'd left him a stack of clothes on top of her dresser. She was so sweet and thoughtful, in her no-big-deal way, like the time she helped him get ready for a double date to a fancy restaurant. (And then he got to go out with her instead, and that ended with another of her amazing kisses.)

These clothes were nothing like the ones she'd had him borrow to become an honorary Angora Deb to knock some sense into Mrs. Babish's niece six or seven years ago. He felt as beautiful as Laverne when he became Lenore, while Squiggy just imitated his kid sister Squendolyn when Shirley very reluctantly loaned her clothes at Laverne's insistence. Lenny had wondered, three years before that, if it meant he was queer that he thought Laverne was really cute in his clothes she'd borrowed without telling him. He eventually decided that he liked the mix of masculine and feminine in Laverne, a girl with great legs and a great pitching arm. As for himself, he had what the Spanish call nachismo, but he wasn't afraid to cry or listen, and that was why Laverne liked him better than she liked Squiggy. Just as a friend, but Lenny had learned long ago to simultaneously settle and pine.

He sighed and undid the towel, hanging it back on the rack. Then he quickly put on Laverne's pajamas in case she suddenly returned to her room. It'd be embarrassing if she saw him naked when he wasn't ready for it.

The legs of the pajama bottoms were of course too short for him, like the gold slacks that became capris on Lenore. (Squiggy was lucky that Shirley's skirt fit him perfectly, while Lenny would've probably invented the miniskirt if he'd gone that route.) It was fine to show a little leg, even alone with Laverne in her apartment after midnight. Still, he put on the robe she'd left him, although it didn't entirely cover his calves.

He stroked its L. Ever since kindergarten, that was his favorite letter of the alphabet, because it was the initial he shared with her.

"Lots of lovely words start with the letter L," Miss O'Reilly told the class one day, distracting Lenny from the window. He was counting how many colors the leaves were magically changing into, and trying not to count down the hours until he could go back to an empty apartment and wait for his mother to come home. (It had been a few weeks but he was still sure it would be any day now.) "Like Lenny and Laverne."

Most of the children giggled, but prissy Shirley Feeney wrinkled her button nose as if Lenny smelled bad, even though his daddy made him wash that morning. (The kids said his dad smelled like fish, but what did they expect when Daddy worked in a cannery?)

"Sitting in a tree, K-I...." Hector Kestenbaum's whisper faded out, and Lenny thought at first that it was because Hector didn't know how to spell "kissing." Then Lenny noticed that Laverne DeFazio, the tough little girl who never wanted to talk about her sick mother, was glaring at Hector in a way that Lenny hoped she'd never glare at him.

"And lavatory," Andrew Squiggman said with what Lenny many years later would learn was called deadpan delivery. Andy broke up the class, even Shirley. He might not have been pronouncing all four syllables correctly, but the five-year-olds knew this was a fancy word for the can, and what was funnier than toilet humor? Squiggman was the smartest, coolest, weirdest little boy on Knapp Street, yet he didn't mind Lenny tagging along to the movies or the dump or wherever he wanted to go, as long as Lenny paid or did the heavy lifting.

The best part was Squiggy couldn't even get in trouble because he was just showing off his vocabulary. (A similar thing happened a dozen years later when Squiggy surprised everyone by becoming class valedictorian.) So Miss O'Reilly said, "Um, that's right," and moved on to the marvelous letter M.

The embroidered L's started sometime between kindergarten and graduation. Lenny's favorite was on the Lenore bra Laverne let him keep. Sometimes he'd put it on when he was alone and stroke it gently, thinking of what it used to hold.

He sighed and headed down to the couch so he could get some shut-eye. But Laverne was sitting there, bra-less and in a jersey and sweat socks. She patted a cushion and said, "Take off my robe, sit down, and let me trim your beard."

He wasn't sure if that was a eulogism.


	3. Cactus Is Our Friend

Laverne didn't know what to do at first. She'd seen Lenny in a very private moment and he didn't know. On top of that, she was turned on, especially since she had a hunch he was thinking of her. She could have opened the shower door and had that passion directed at her, had that rod pumping inside her walls instead of inside his hand.

Or she could've startled her clumsy friend and caused an injury. She was going to have to proceed cautiously, if she was going to proceed.

Not too long ago, she'd had to make a similar but definitely not identical decision about Carmine. He wanted to move to New York to pursue a career in theater. It would've been so easy to talk him out of it. He respected her opinion and she'd told him a couple years ago that he needed to start taking his show biz dreams seriously if he ever expected to make them come true. But she could've said his chances were better in the movies and he should stay near Hollywood.

A part of her didn't want him to go, a selfish part. She'd already lost Shirley and Edna because they got caught up in whirlwind romances, even though Edna was married to Laverne's father. And then Squiggy told her that Lenny was treasure-hunting in the desert again, this time on his own. (She was going to have a little chat with Squiggy when he got back from Leonetta's.)

She wasn't ready to lose another old friend. And there were unresolved feelings between them, going back over a decade but further complicated by Shirley's departure. For such a long time, Carmine had been forbidden to her. It wasn't just that he was her best friend's on-and-off boyfriend. He was literally forbidden to her, by Shirley, repeatedly. Walter Meeney should've freed Laverne from that pledge, but it didn't work out that way. Shirley's shadow still hung over them.

The thing was, Laverne wasn't so sure it would've been a good idea to get involved with Carmine, his past with Shirley aside. They'd tried it once, years ago, behind Shirley's back. Besides the incredible guilt, they realized they were incompatible. Not physically, since it never got beyond mild makeouts, but personality-wise. They were soon bickering, but not in the fun way, where it would lead to more makeouts. Also, she couldn't forget what she knew about him as a boyfriend, things that didn't bother Shirley, at least not enough to break up with him permanently, but things that bugged Laverne as someone who tried to protect Shirley.

Laverne and Carmine were still mildly attracted to each other, and he was still one of her closest friends. They hugged and kissed when he left for New York, and he'd called her at what must've been three in the morning on the East Coast to tell her about getting a role in some play called _Hare._ (Maybe a musical version of _Harvey_.) She was happy for and proud of him, so she got over her annoyance at him for waking her the first night in the waterbed. Yes, she fell off the inflatable raft when she hung up, but that could've happened a couple minutes later, when Lenny would've startled her out of a deep sleep to ask to use her shower.

Lenny was what Squiggy would've called a whole other kettle of horse, a fish of a different color. She hadn't seen much of him as a serious boyfriend, but he had been sweet and devoted to Karen, before she left for New York last year. Heck, Lenny had been a sweet and devoted friend, and not just to Laverne. But, yeah, he had a special connection to Laverne. They could tell each other things that they couldn't even tell their best friends. They made each other laugh and they made each other cry, but then they were closer than ever when they made up. And they just enjoyed hanging out together. Like, it was more fun to watch TV with him than alone, from ball games to old movies.

But, yeah, he had a crush on her. She didn't know how far back it went. Well, Squiggy once swore it started in kindergarten, but that was ridiculous. Laverne had not been a cute, sweet little girl like Shirley, who was the "Darla" of their "Our Gang," the unwitting first crush of many boys all through their years at Knapp Street Elementary. Laverne was a chubby, buck-toothed tomboy, and in kindergarten she was mad at the world because she'd been dragged out of her beloved Brooklyn when her poppy came back from The War, only to have her mommy get super sick in super stupid Milwaukee.

As for Lenny, he was the tall kid (taller than even the first-graders) who looked out the window with his daydreamy blue eyes when the teacher was talking, and he was so shy that he probably didn't know the difference between boys and girls. (Laverne knew from playing doctor with her cute cousin Anthony back in the old old neighborhood.) Hector Kestenbaum and Rosie Schicklgruber made fun of Lenny because he smelled like fish, but Laverne liked fish. Besides, the poor kid's mommy ran out on him, and Laverne was particularly sensitive to cracks about someone having no mother. She often thought about hitting Hector and especially Rosie, but she didn't want them to tease her about liking Lenny. She hated boys then. She hated the world then.

Lenny had a way of softening her, getting around her prickly outside, like she was a cactus and he knew how to harvest cactus juice. She didn't have to be tough around him and could be tender in a way she wasn't with anyone else, even boyfriends. And he could drop the cruder side he showed around Squiggy, who'd taught him how to be a man. (Lenny's dad worked long shifts at the cannery and wasn't much of a talker when he was around. Laverne remembered Mr. Kosnowski mumbling in church but he never sang.)

And then there was the physical side with her and Lenny, which used to be one-sided. At first, she just thought it was him being a teenage boy, a teenage boy who was best friends with Squiggy and Hector. (At some point, Hector became the tagalong instead of the tormentor. He inexplicably thought Squiggy was cool, and Lenny was the sidekick, so Hector latched on as deputy sidekick.)

Gradually, Laverne became aware that this wasn't just teenage lust, and not just because it continued into Lenny's twenties. Yes, Lenny leered at and bit his hand over other girls, including Shirley, but he lusted after Laverne more consistently. And every time she kissed him, he reacted like she'd given him, as they used to call it in the old neighborhood, voe-dee-oh-doe.

She enjoyed the kisses but she never got goosebumps, until Hoot Nite at Cowboy Bill's. She sang with him to boost both their confidences, and he was trying to impress a waitress, so why did she want to stay on that stage singing and kissing with him? It scared the heck out of her and she tried to back off from the borderline flirting and touching she'd been doing with him, especially after Sonny moved away. But there was still this thing between them, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

And now she'd seen him naked and jacking off in her shower, after showing up looking like a refugee from the Wild West. What was she supposed to do?

Well, she could start by trimming that ridiculously long beard. So she filled a tall glass of water, grabbed the kitchen shears, and was waiting for him when he came downstairs in her spare pajamas and robe.


	4. You Don't Have to Answer

Lenny took a big sip of water, even though he'd had water upstairs. He set down the glass and said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. How did you manage when your canteen ran out?"

"Well, it rained a few times. But not enough for me to bathe. Thanks for letting me use your shower. And borrow your p.j.s."

"No problem."

"Um, so I guess this means I can sleep over, too, huh? I mean until Squiggy gets back. Or until it's late enough to ask Carmine to let me in."

Instead of answering him directly, she said, "Turn your head. I wanna take care of your beard."

"Aw, you don't have to trouble yourself, Laverne. I'm gonna shave when I go home tomorrow."

"I don't mind. And I think I'll trim your hair a little, too, if that's OK."

"Yeah, we can play barber shop if you want." He sat cross-legged so he could more easily face her.

She shook her head and put a kitchen towel over his lap without touching him. He was very glad he'd taken care of himself in the shower. He thought of asking about the missing bath towel, but maybe he'd just imagined it.

"So after I'd been on my own about a month...."

"Len, I want to hear more about your time in the desert, but I need you to hold your chin still while I work on your beard."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Maybe you could tell me what I missed."

"OK." As she started cautiously cutting the split ends of his beard, she said, "Pop is a city councilman now."

He congratulated her with his eyes since he wasn't supposed to talk. She must've understood because she continued, "Yeah, I'm real proud of him. And Squiggy fell for a campaign worker, Leonetta Hoffmeier. She's a young, pretty blonde, about twenty-two." Laverne didn't have to mention that Squiggy was almost thirty, since he was their age. "She's a farmer's daughter and this combination of innocent and curious that of course drives Squiggy crazy, so he probably won't be back until Sunday night."

This was Friday night. Lenny was happy for Squiggy, although he felt left behind if his best friend had finally found Miss Right.

"And you can't have Carmine let you into your place because he's gone to New York to be onstage. He called me, right before you got here, to tell me he got a part."

He registered his surprise with his eyes. Carmine had just up and left without waiting for Lenny to come back. Not that they were as close as him and Squiggy of course, but they did grow up together and Lenny was once almost Carmine's best man. Again, Lenny felt happy but abandoned.

This time, Laverne must've misinterpreted his expression, because she said, "Yeah, I miss him, but I'm real proud of him. Anyway, the owner hasn't hired a new building manager yet, because Carmine left so sudden. And I guess we could call up the owner tomorrow if you want. Or you could just stay here all weekend."

He now had to worry that she would understand his face too well, that she'd see how much he wanted that. Even just hanging out with her, getting to watch TV for the first time in almost six weeks, would make him happy.

She set down the scissors and stroked his chin, maybe to judge her barbering, because she'd been snipping away all this time. He didn't ask why she didn't just go by sight instead of touch, too, especially since her face was getting closer and closer to his.

"The problem is, my waterbed didn't work out the way I hoped, and we both need a place to sleep tonight. And all I've got is this couch."

"I'll wrestle ya for it." He was sure he'd lose, but he'd enjoy it.

She licked her lips and said, "How about tongue-wrestling?"

He bit his lower lip, trying to hold in all the words he wanted to say, but his eyes could not keep silent, and she must've heard them crying, "Yes, please kiss me, Laverne! I'm hungry for your tongue."

Her tongue darted out again as her hand stroked his beard. She licked and unlocked his lips until his mouth swung open like her bedroom door when he was drawn up the short staircase by the sounds of splashing and swearing.

She swooped into his mouth and her tongue playfully wrestled with his. He didn't know the names of all her holds and tackles, but he did his best to learn her moves and use them against her. Meanwhile, Laverne stroked the long blond hair she hadn't yet trimmed and Lenny caressed the shoulders of the Dodgers jersey.

After a few minutes, her tongue released his and drifted over to his ear to whisper, "It's a tie. I guess we'll have to share."

He knew he shouldn't look a gift Norse in the mouth, but he had to ask, "Do you have a beard fetish I don't know about?"

She chuckled as she moved her head away. "No, but you do look pretty cute with facial hair."

"Thanks. But what are your plans for me?"

"Well, if you'll turn your back to me, I'll trim your hair now."

He had seen himself in her bathroom mirror, before it steamed up, and he figured she couldn't make him look any worse. So he turned around on the couch and faced her front door, although he wondered if she was just looking for an excuse not to look at him when she explained what had come over her.

She stroked his still damp hair and then he heard the snipping of the shears again.

"I'm sorry you didn't have a towel to dry your hair with."

"That's all right. You weren't expecting company tonight."

"No, I mean I took the extra towel."

Lenny was sometimes slow on the uptake. At five, he didn't realize that his mother had abandoned him, his mousy big sister, and his silent, hard-working father. At twenty-one, he let himself believe that Laverne really wanted to go to a fancy restaurant with him and would happily go on another double date the next weekend. At almost thirty, he believed his best friend saying, "You rest here in the shade of the cactus while I look in the direction where we thought we saw a UHF last night."

And over a month later, he didn't get at first that Laverne had snuck into her bathroom and grabbed the other towel while he was shaking hands with the bishop. He could understand her needing a towel after swimming in bed, but did she have to get it during a private moment? At the same time, he felt guilty, not only because touching himself was a sin, but because Laverne might be mad at him for doing it in her shower, even though he was doing it for a common good, the greater cause.

Then it sunk in that she didn't seem mad, quite the opposite. She had trimmed his beard and was now trimming his hair. She had flirted with and really kissed him. And then she had said that they could sleep on her couch together.

"I guess you got a surprise along with the towel," he said, somehow feeling both embarrassed and proud.

The sound of the snipping stopped and Laverne nuzzled part of his neck that was no longer covered by hair. "A pleasant surprise," she murmured.

Mr. Friendly was still sleeping under the hair-covered kitchen towel, but the rest of Lenny's body was very awake. "Laverne!" he gasped.

"Yes, Lenny?" her voice teased, as she started undoing her pajama top.

"Are we really gonna....I mean, please don't be leading me on! I don't think my heart could take it."

She placed her strong yet delicate left hand on his chest and said, "It's beating very fast now. Are you sure it can take it if we do the deed?"

"Oh, yeah, I've got incredible stamens."

Her "Oh, Lenny" was fondly amused. And then she kissed and climbed her way around him until the shears were on the coffee table next to his glass of water, and she was sitting in his lap, her long legs wrapped around his narrow waist. Mr. Friendly didn't know what he was missing.


	5. You Won't Need No Harem, Honey

Laverne felt like this was a big step. She'd never waited this long to be with a guy. Usually, it was weeks, not years. And this was Lenny, probably her best friend after Shirley. The man who had pined for her and gone halfway across the country with her. (Well, so had Squiggy but only because she paid for gas.) Being with Lenny would change everything, and she wasn't crazy about some of the recent changes.

But, "I missed you," she admitted, as she put her head on his shoulder and got used to the warmth of his hips in her pajamas against her bare inner thighs.

"I missed you, too," he said, stroking her still damp hair. "I kept thinking about how to get back home to you."

"How did you get home?"

"A gas station attendant named Melvin picked up me and some crazy old bum who claimed to be Howard Hughes."

"Oh. Kay."

"Melvin took Howard to Vegas and me to L.A."

Laverne was sure there was more to this story but "the important thing is you're back."

"Mm hm." He kissed her forehead but also ran his hands up the inside of her jersey, one on her back, the other more slowly going from her stomach to her chest. "Back with the sexiest woman I know."

She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "Len, I'm not even the sexiest woman in the building."

"Well, yeah, Rhonda has an incredible body."

"Right," she said sourly.

Stroking her spine and her cleavage, he continued, "But your body is just the right size for mine. And you are the sexiest kisser who's ever kissed me."

"Oh, Len," she sighed and of course kissed him.

But this time he cupped one of her breasts, gently, not like the gropings he used to try during "double makeouts." (Squiggy meanwhile would go for Shirley's little tushie.) Laverne definitely was not going to slap Lenny or kick him this time.

It was a wet kiss and she reminded herself that she would have to make sure he kept replenishing his fluids, and not just with her saliva. She was going to take care of this boy, in more ways than one.

She wanted to moan when he wiggled her nipple, but her tongue was licking inside Lenny's mouth. And then she started sucking his tongue as he began to drive her mildly crazy by squeezing her breasts, one and then the other, back and forth.

He started trying to take off her jersey, so she carefully moved her head away from his and raised her arms. He yanked the jersey off and tossed it to the floor impatiently. Then he grinned and whispered, "Hey, Sexy Lady."

If a stranger said that to her in a bar, she probably would've laughed or even thrown a drink in his face. But she reacted to Lenny saying it by putting her tits in his face. He seemed startled for a moment but then started kissing and licking like he'd wanted to for years.

Laverne was proud of her chest, even if it wasn't as pneumatic as Rhonda's. She liked showing it off in clingy or lowcut tops, especially if she was on a date. And it was very sensitive, so it felt good when it got touched, great when it got oral attention. In high school, this was the kind of makeout that got her a reputation as a bimbo (and that made going to Confession really awkward). In the last few years, it was foreplay that not every lover spent much time on. But Lenny looked like he'd do this all night if she let him. Well, except he started sucking on her left breast, like he was trying to tongue her heart.

"Sweet Jesus, Len," she groaned, running her hands through his uneven haircut. (She made a mental note to finish barbering him before he went out in public again.) Not only were his lips rubbing and pulling on her breast, as his tongue wiggled her nipple, but his mustache and beard were tickling her skin in a way that was driving her crazy.

She'd never made out with someone with a beard before, a five o' clock shadow at most. She had gone to second base with Rusty Grogan, the guy Lenny fought with over her, when Lenny thought Laverne liked him the way he liked her. She'd looked forward to kissing Rusty and feeling his mustache, but he wasn't a great kisser, against her mouth or her chest, so she never went out with him again.

Lenny was somehow both creative and determined as a kisser. And he kept making eye contact with her now, which he couldn't really do when he was kissing her mouth, playing with her tongue.

"Yes, Len, just like, oh, just like that!"

He switched to her other breast, but this time he went very lightly, breath-kisses that made her impatient for more.

"Please don't tease me, Len!"

He spoke to that breast, "Sexy ladies need to be teased." And then he glided one hand between her thighs.

"Lenlenlen!" she begged, no longer sure what she was begging for.

"I wonder if we can get these panties as wet as the ones you was wearin' when I went upstairs." His fingertips grazed the crotch.

She flexed her legs, fighting the urge to clamp them around his hand, just as she was resisting the urge to rub her chest against Lenny's soft but slightly scratchy facial hair. She'd let him play with her for awhile, but just wait until it was her turn!

He kissed the right breast ever so lightly as one of his hands lightly caressed her other breast, and his other hand teased her panties. She couldn't help whimpering in frustration. When he looked up at her, his eyes were half shut, which made them look less sweet and innocent. "You made me wait years, Laverne. You can wait a few hours."

"Hours?!"

"Well, yeah. Mr. Friendly already had his fun since he didn't know you'd want him. But I'm sure he'll wake you up when we're spooning tomorrow morning."

She didn't laugh at the very Lenny name for his penis. (Squiggy probably called his something like the Purple Avenger.) And it was like Lenny to be imagining snuggling in their sleep. But she didn't want to wait hours for his erection. Maybe she could wake up Little Lenny before then.

He distracted her by putting a hand down the front of her panties, like they were parking, but with more finesse. He found her button and started rubbing it with two fingers. "Mmm, nice and swollen." Then he licked her nipple and she felt it on her clitoris.

"Len, God!"

Instead of speaking, he sucked her nipple, and she felt like her clit was being pulled on by his lips rather than massaged by his fingers. 

"Lenny Honey, how are you doing that with— oh wow!"

He was now vibrating her clit with his thumb, while the two long fingers were teasing her labia without quite penetrating her. She could feel herself getting moister and moister and she had to press against his hand.

Then he took his hand out of her panties and smeared the moisture onto her saliva-coated chest. Then he sucked some more.

"Hm, I think Leonard Kosnowski wants to eat my pussy," she teased as calmly as she could.

He groaned with his mouth full, then swallowed and looked up at her. "Please?" he mouthed.

She swung off of the sofa and put both feet on the floor.

"Hey, come back!"

"Patience, Len." She took the kitchen towel off his lap, careful to not spill any hair onto the floor as she set it on the coffee table. Then she picked up the glass of water and took it to the kitchen, where she filled it to the brim. She carried it back to the living room, along the way picking up the robe she'd draped over a chair when she decided that she wanted to change Lenny's hair and maybe his role in her life.

By the time she returned to the couch, he'd turned around and was facing her, with a puzzled but hopeful expression.

"Here," she said, handing him the glass, "you need to keep from dehydrating."

He nodded, sipped, and held the glass out. "You, too."

She blushed, took the glass, and drank deeply.


	6. Kick Up a Little Dust

Lenny took a longer sip when Laverne handed the glass back to him after her turn. He loved licking lovely, luscious Laverne and was looking forward to her lower lips. She took another gulp and then set the glass back on the coffee table, next to the kitchen towel and shears.

"Ok, Len, stand up." He did and watched as she draped both her robes over the couch. Then she told him, "Now lie down." 

He obeyed her out of habit and curiosity. He put his head on the end of the couch closest to the front door, so he could look up at her in just her Dodger-blue panties. Well, just her Dodger-blue panties until he watched them slither to the floor. He looked from the floor to her long, tan legs, until they forked at a dark blonde thatch. He bit his hand and really wished Mr. Friendly wasn't napping.

"Lenny," she said in her wheedling "Do me a favor" voice that he used to hear in Milwaukee, usually accompanied by Shirley doing something shoulder-related to Squiggy, "let's rub beards together."

He was about to point out she didn't have any facial hair, but then she made one hand into a fig leaf and he realized she was talking about other hair. He unbit his hand only to slip his Vernie-juicy fingers inside and suck.

She smiled down at him and moved the fig leaf from the front to between her legs, playing with herself in the way girls did, so different than how he and Squiggy played with themselves. Karen had shown him once, at his request, although she was shyer and less earthy than Laverne, whose knowing green eyes seemed to be telling him, _This is my magic box and I'm going to open it for you._

She stepped closer and stroked his beard until he opened his mouth. She teased his lips with her fingertips. He liked hand-kissing anyway, and she tasted so good!

He was about to suck on her fingers when she tugged her hand away. But he didn't complain, because she turned her back to him and he got to ogle her curvy bottom. He was thinking about what he'd like to do to it, when she again distracted him, this time by sitting on his face. He licked and kissed eagerly, getting Laverniness all over his lips and tongue, and into his beard.

"Wow, you're thirsty, Len!" she teased, but not dryly. "Make me wetter and wetter, Lenny Honey, and drink as much as you want."

He was happy to oblige, even before she leaned forward and put her hand down the front of her pajamas. He wished he could see what she was doing, not that he had any complaints about the view. He definitely could feel her hand on his limp dick, lightly stroking it and, although he had a Phil-Spectory wall of sound from her da-doo-ron-ron, he thought he heard her murmur, "Mr. Friendly seems a little shy right now."

Lenny was unable to explain that that didn't mean he didn't like her. It was like when Lenny liked Sabrina Bouche so much he couldn't talk to her at first. (And then when he could talk, the only thing they had in common was they both liked cow-people clothes.)

Anyway, Mr. F liked being touched even when Lenny wasn't hard, because Lenny's whole body starved for touch. And this was Laverne, who that poor schmuck had been thinking about, dreaming about, for over half a lifetime. If Mr. F had been a reliable compass, he could've led the rest of Lenny out of the desert and into Laverne's bedroom weeks ago. If he hadn't been a dumb knob who didn't know that Laverne would miss Lenny, maybe he wouldn't have led Lenny astray, and not just in the desert. Then again, maybe Lenny had to leave Laverne for awhile to make her miss him enough to sit on his face and coax Mr. Friendly.

She shifted forward, not just changing the angle but moving the magic box out of the reach of his mouth. He shyly stroked her bottom and asked, "Am I doin' it wrong?" Maybe he should've practiced more, or saved it for her, although that would've been a long time to wait.

Instead of speaking, she lightly kissed the tip of his penis.

"Laverne!" he gasped, feeling like he was in the middle of a mirage. He pinched a cheek to see if he'd wake up, but it was a cheek in front of his face rather than on his face.

"Lenny!" she scolded but in a really flirty way, and she wiggled her bottom a little.

So as she started licking him, he massaged the part of her his tongue could no longer reach, playing with her button and feeling how wet her lips were. And then when she swallowed his whole dick, he pictured being inside her box, so he slipped a fingertip in. Then as she massaged him with her tongue from inside her mouth, kind of like French kissing, his finger gave her quick little thrusts, while his thumb vibrated her clit.

"I really wanna make you come, Laverne."

She slid him out of her mouth and said, "Show me what you're like, Len. Show me with your hand how you'd do it to me." His hand teased her and then gave her steady thrusts. She moaned and then laughed. "Someone's getting jealous," she said, caressing his cock, which was definitely starting to swell with some emotion. She kissed it all over, and his hand pumped inside her until she got very wet indeed.

He pushed both his heads forward, achieving sixty-nine despite the height difference. They gave each other simultaneous manual and oral, their mouths and hands hungry and impatient.

She paused the blowjob when she reached a big climax, but he didn't mind because she was crying, "So good, Len! So very very GOOD!"

He expected her to resume when she caught her breath, but instead she shifted away, stood up on the couch, turned around, and smiled down at him. "Lenny Honey, I think it's time to screw."

He met her sweet bluntness with the blurted whine, "But I don't got no protection, Lavvy!"


	7. When I Take You for a Ride

Lenny was a big dope, but he was her big dope. And it was sweet of him to suddenly worry about protection right before doing it.

She again knelt with a leg on either side of him, but this time facing him, so that she could see his concerned but lustful blue eyes and his cum-soaked blond beard and mustache. Her knees were against the hips she'd exposed when she tugged her pajamas down a little. She caressed his sides, trying not to tickle him, and said, "I'm on the Pill. And I haven't been with anyone in awhile." Not since things fizzled out with Mike Bailey.

He nodded. "You're the first woman I've seen in forty days."

"So that's why I was able to wake up Mr. Friendly so easy."

His hands tweaked her nipples. "You know that's not why, Lav— Laverne."

"You called me Lavvy earlier."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I like it. It's just different."

"Good," he said stroking her breasts.

That felt really nice, but she wanted to feel him inside her, too, so she spread her legs more until she was straddling him. The hard little head nudged her clit and he squeezed her breasts.

She did a little dance on him, teasing them both, and he thrust at her, trying to keep up and find his way in. With all that wetness, he soon slid in, making them both groan.

"God, Len!"

"We fit together good, huh?"

"Yeah!" she gasped.

She'd been with men of different sizes and somewhat different shapes. But she'd never had someone fill her so perfectly. It was like Lenny's penis was made for her. She tried changing the angle and the depth, but no matter what she did, they fit each other's bodies as easily as each other's clothes.

"Mmm, I like how you're ridin' me, Laverne, but if you lay on me, we can kiss at the same time."

She carefully shifted until their bare chests almost met. (He was still wearing her unbuttoned pajama top.). He bent his knees so that his half-naked thighs pressed against her tushie. He was deep inside her now, and his voice was deep as he moaned, "Hey, Sexy Lady."

She nuzzled his neck and whispered, "You like it when I kiss you, Len?"

"Always!"

She kissed his lips lightly as they slowly moved their privates together. She knew now (whatever she'd thought the time she'd almost died at the Pizza Bowl almost a decade earlier), despite some very lewd propositions over the years, it could never have been just screwing with her and Lenny. It was always going to be making love, and it was always going to happen eventually.

She deepened and quickened the kiss. She danced upon his long, skinny body, feeling his long, skinny penis plunge into her from different angles. Then he squeezed her bottom with one hand to steady her, although she could still wiggle a little. His other hand fingered her clit. She had what felt like a never-ending orgasm, and she sucked his tongue as he thrust his cock as if he was losing control. And yet, he didn't let himself come until she finished. 

Then he sucked her tongue and she felt it between the legs somehow. She came again, this time pushing his deflating dick out of her tired pussy.

Lenny let go of her tongue and asked, "Was it good for you?"

The corniest thing to say after sex, but she knew he really cared about her and not his ego. She stroked his uneven hair and said, "Very good, Len."

"Will you be my girlfriend now?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I think you passed the audition."

"Will you be my wife?"

She scrambled to her feet and mumbled, "I gotta use the can."

He called after her, "I love you, too, Lavvy!"

She shook her head but couldn't help smiling again as she headed upstairs.


	8. Till the Evening Ends

Mr. Friendly woke up his owner in the morning by rubbing against a soft, full buttock. Lenny yawned and grinned, especially when Laverne shifted so that they could do doggy style. After twenty-five years together, this was still his favorite way to wake up.

On workdays, it had to be a quickie. Lenny's shifts varied as a cab driver, but Laverne worked days at the Hollywood Wax Museum. (Also, she was writing a book about all her crazy job experiences.)

This was the weekend, so his strokes were slower and more leisurely. His strokes inside her no longer mysterious but still magical box, the strokes of his hands on her sagging but still sensitive breasts, the strokes of his tongue on her thicker but still unwrinkled neck.

"Good morning, Lenny," she said with amused fondness, but then she moaned as she clenched around him, still as perfect a fit as the ring on the finger that was teasing her left nipple. She slipped her matching hand down to rub her swollen clitoris.

"You want me to do that?" he offered, although he knew what the answer would be.

"Nah, you've got your hands full."

Last night, during a _Sea Hunt_ marathon on cable, his hands and face had been full of her, culminating in mutually orgasmic 69. Then Laverne hit the power button on the remote with her cleaner hand and they spooned on the couch, still fitting as surprisingly perfectly as each other's clothes.

They could make love in the living room, now that both kids were going to college out of state. Lenny was a doting, far from silent father, but he had to admit that the empty nest had done wonders for the never dull Kosnowski sex life.

They still locked the doors, mostly because their landlord had never lost his youthful talent for dramatic entrances. His hello, with Leonetta in tow, a quarter century ago, after Laverne sighed, "God, what a dick!", was one of his most memorable. (Miss Hoffmeier had been horrified at first and then giggly. Squiggy said, "It's about fucking time!" Laverne had ordered him out and for once Squiggy didn't argue. Lenny didn't officially meet his future sort of sister-in-law until an hour later.)

Squiggy became a real estate typhoon and Laurel Vista Village was his wedding present. Rhonda had already moved out when she got married, the first time, although she still lived in her old apartment between marriages.

Shirley stayed in Sonny's old apartment when she was getting over her own and only divorce. She ended up taking Walter, Jr. to the old neighborhood, where a kind cop saved him from a bully. Norman, Jr. was now a teenager.

It was strange at first for Laverne, her best friend dating and then marrying her ex-boyfriend. "But," she admitted to Lenny as he caressed the belly full of their second collaboration, "I used to want Carmine sometimes."

"So why didn't you go after him after Shirley left?"

She shrugged. "I think I didn't want to ruin the friendship."

Then they'd laughed and kissed. She was and would always be the sexiest kisser he knew.

She now turned her head and nuzzled his gray-flecked beard. "I'm glad I beat up Hector Kestenbaum on your behalf fifty years ago."

"I am eternally in your debt, My Lady."

"Oh, I think you've repaid me by now."

"With interest. And no penalty for early withdrawal."

"I'm not a bank, Len, no matter how many deposits you make."

But she was the overflowing bank of the river of his joy. She was, as she had always been, his oasis.


End file.
